


Pounding

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Half a plot?, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:14:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU (based on Ownly_lownly's Like a Drum series). The title is mostly not innuendo. Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pounding

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [My Beating Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/991568) by [Lownly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lownly/pseuds/Lownly). 



Marco was definitely out of his element.

As the music pounded, he could see Connie above the crowd, buoyed up by the hands of Sasha, Reiner, and Bert. That crazy kid never seemed to get tired of making a scene. Marco, however, stood uncomfortably in the corner and sipped his drink for lack of a better thing to do. He was glad as the rest of his friends that midterms were over, but did they really all have to go out partying immediately? Frankly, he felt more like crawling under the covers to make up all the missed sleep. Between studying and comforting Jean during the night, he had averaged about two hours of sleep for the past week. He hoped it had paid off. He realized he should be more worried about his grades, but Jean’s sobbing during the night—sometimes while he was still asleep—terrified him more than the thought of failing astronomy. Speaking of Jean, where had he gotten to?

Marco pushed through the dancing crowd, trying to spot his friend among the wriggling bodies and pulsing colored lights. Where could Jean be? Maybe he was more familiar with the club than Marco was. Maybe he had found a closeted alcove, and was waiting for Marco to turn the corner so he could ambush him. Maybe Jean was waiting to ambush him with his lips—

 _No!_ Marco shook his head violently, feeling his cheeks growing red. You two are best friends, and Jean needs you as that. _You can’t go messing up your relationship and possibly damaging him just because you can’t control your hormones!_ Beginning to sweat from his embarrassment  and the stuffy atmosphere of too many bodies in one room, Marco decided to search the bathrooms next and wash his face while he was at it. His head was beginning to pound from the loud music, bright lights, and alcohol.

As he headed down the hallway to the restrooms, he heard Armin’s voice at the end.

“Please, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing, and you will not be happy about this after you sober up.”

“Oh, c’mon, Arminnnn, I jus’ wanna little kiss” a slurred but all too familiar voice whined.

_Oh, no, is this what Eren was talking about?_

As Marco reached Armin and Jean, Armin managed to push Jean away. Jean stumbled to the other side of the hall and leaned against the wall, grinning sloppily.

“Hey, Marco, Jean’s pretty wasted. He tried to kiss me, which only happens when he’s close to blacking out, so you should probably take him back to the dorm.”

“Yeah, I think that may be best,” agreed Marco as Jean started humming tunelessly. “It’s just five blocks west back to campus, right?”

“Correct. He should be fine by tomorrow, this happened a few times in high school. Nothing drinking plenty of water couldn’t solve.”

After thanking Armin and stumbling out into the chilly night, Marco observed Jean tottering down the street. _Perhaps it would be best if I put my arm around him for the walk back… I mean, he’s not stable on his own and I am responsible for his safety. And maybe it would be nice to walk him back like that. For the sake of a friend, of course._ As Marco slipped his arm around Jean’s waist, he felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather. Jean was so warm, and under the alcohol smelled like something with hints of campfire: woody, slightly smoky, and warm. There was some other component, though, that was sweet and absolutely delicious, like the smell of a pumpkin pie coming out of the oven. Marco inhaled deeper, but noticed a sour smell growing. Alarmed, he pulled away just in time for Jean to vomit onto the sidewalk and groan.

After five blocks and a trudge through half the campus (thankfully no more vomiting), the couple finally reached Marco’s room. In the light inside, Marco could see that Jean had dribbled vomit on his shirt and chin. _Gross._

“Jean, I’m going to take you to the shower. I can clean you up before you fall asleep in my bed, and it might help you sober up a bit. Is that okay?”

“Ooookaaaayyyyy, Marco Polo.”

Marco grabbed the soap, a towel, and extra clothes for Jean, then dragged him to the bathroom. After Jean tried unsuccessfully to extricate himself from his shirt, Marco took pity on him and pulled it off with a flip of his stomach. He had seen Jean without a shirt plenty of times, and thought he was used to it, but Jean’s half lidded eyes (and the fact Marco was removing his clothing) made it feel so… Sultry.

Swallowing, Marco turned on the water as Jean started to hum again. As he adjusted the temperature, he realized why Jean’s humming (horrible as it was) sounded so familiar. It was the song he had composed as Jean watched, light but somehow sad. Before he could think too long and hard about it, Jean grabbed Marco’s collar and stuck his head under the water.

“Aack! Mmph! What the hell was that for?!” Marco spat as he pulled back, dripping water from his head and shoulders.

“Dirty thoughts, Marco, you were turnin’ red. Had to wash your braiiin ouuuuut” Jean sang, still dry. “Who were you thinkin’ bout? That girl in the front row of astronomy’s not bad looki—AAHHH!”

Marco was too tired to avoid Jean’s questions, and rather irked by how wet he was, shoved Jean under the tap. He was not prepared to get even more soaked, though, when Jean grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the water.

“Could it be me you’re thinkin’ bout? Hmmm? Cuz I wouldn’ mind if tha’ was the case… You have freckles near your lips, have I tolja that? I wanna closer look…”  
As Jean leaned close to Marco’s face, Marco realized what his intentions were. He would be fine if Jean kissed him, really, how many times had he dreamt about it? But not like this. He couldn’t do this to Jean when he wouldn’t remember the next day, and if anyone found out and told Jean, he’d hate Marco forever. No more best friends, let alone kissing.

Gently pushing Jean’s shoulders back, Marco firmly said “Jean, you’re drunk. Eren said you tend to kiss people when that happens. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Why don’t you dry off, have some water, try to sleep, and think about this tomorrow?”

 

As Marco turned off the water and handed Jean the towel (he wished he had brought two, as his head was still soaked), Jean just stared blankly at him. He followed Marco back to his room with the towel wrapped around his torso like a ridiculously huge lost lamb. Jean plonked down on the spare bed, and by the time Marco had changed his shirt, was out like a light. Smiling slightly and shaking his head, Marco pulled the blanket over Jean’s bare chest, then climbed into the other bed. As he drifted off, Marco hummed a few bars of Jean’s song to himself.

“Marco… Marco… Oi! MARCO!”

Marco sat bolt upright, almost smacking into Jean’s head.

“Whatwhowhere’sthefire? Jean? What time is it?”

“Sorry,” Jean muttered. The light filtering in from behind the blinds was pale, and the dorm seemed too quiet for a reasonable hour. Marco figured it must be just past dawn.

“Hey, what happened last night? I remember something fuzzy about Armin, but not much else…”  
“Oh, that. Turns out Eren was right. You tried to put the moves on Armin, so I took you home.” Marco hoped Jean wouldn’t remember anything else. That could get uncomfortable fast.  
“Okay… Why’s my shirt wet, then? Doesn’t seem like it rained last night…”

“Ah, well, you vomited and got it all over yourself, so you rinsed off in the shower. I tried to only wet the parts of your shirt that were dirty, but…”  
“Wait, you were in the shower with me?” Jean’s face fell. “Oh no. Please tell me I didn’t do anything to you.”  
“W-well, you, uh, got me a bit wet too… and you tried to kiss me as well.”

Silence. Jean turned his head away, unreadable. _Shit. I should not have told him that. Now our friendship’s going to be ruined and –_

“Well, I knew this conversation would happen sooner or later.”

_What? What’s he talking about?_

“Marco, listen. You know I don’t make friends well, and you’re the closest friend I’ve had. Well, uh, I in general do not like people. But I like you. I really do.”

“Jean, what are you going on about? You were drunk, I understand, I could handle it, it’s fine—“  
“Marco, you’re not listening to me. I’m trying to tell you that while I was drunk, I, er… Maybe I kinda sorta… Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Jean buried his head in his hands as Marco digested. What was Jean trying to say? They were friends, and it’s not like Jean had confessed his undying love for Marco last night.

_Oh._

_No. That’s not what’s happening right now. It can’t be! It’s absurd_! Marco fidgeted with his thoughts, growing redder and redder.

“Jean… I don’t understand.”  
Jean lifted his face out of his hands and stared, worry lines crossing his forehead.

“Can you try and rephrase what you’re trying to say? I’m afraid I just don’t understa—“

“FUCK, you’re adorable.” And Jean’s face was suddenly on Marco’s, hands on his shoulders, holding him in a rushed kiss. Marco flailed his arms and legs in shock, and slowly, as his brain processed what was happening, relaxed and melted into Jean’s lips. The sweet scent hinted at the night before was back in full force, and Jean’s chapped lips tickled Marco’s in just the right way. As they broke apart, Marco saw Jean was trembling. He took a minute to float back to earth, as his brain seemed to have been temporarily zapped away. Struggling to find something to say, he blurted, “so I guess you don’t only kiss when you’re drunk.” Jean paused, then broke into hysterical laughter.

“Jean, are you okay? You seem a little… well, nuts.”

“I’m okay,” Jean gasped, eyes glistening. “I just have a lot of feelings happening right now, and, uh, well, it’s better than crying.”

Marco realized Jean had been through a lot in the past twenty four hours: midterms, partying, passing out, and confessing his feelings to his only friend. Were they still just friends? It didn’t matter for now. Marco pulled Jean into a hug as he hiccupped, breathing into his soft brown hair.

“Marco?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we… was that okay? Do you hate me now?”

Jean looked up at Marco, and he answered by pulling him into another long kiss.


End file.
